


Minor Sins

by yaskween



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Time, Heavenly bodies becoming gendered, M/M, Temptation, Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 02:51:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19190446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaskween/pseuds/yaskween
Summary: “Do you think,” Aziraphale tried again, watching as Crowley signed the bill, “Do you think that means angels who fornicate are damned?”Crowley stopped what he was doing and put the pen down, turning his opaque gaze properly to Aziraphale. His mouth was slightly open, and if Aziraphale didn’t know better, he’d say the demon looked vaguely shocked. It wasn’t an expression he could recall seeing very often on his face over the past 6,000 years.“I don’t know,” Crowley said finally. “Though I’ve got to admit, I thought you’d know.”---Aziraphale decides to seduce Crowley with a spot of philosophy. Featuring The Ritz, the statue in Crowley's apartment, and extremely purposeful misreadings of theology.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on Jude 6-7 and also some uh things Michael Sheen and Neil Gaiman said about biology, the supernatural, and love in the show. (I’ve bastardized all of it; I am not a Talmudic scholar, but I’m pretty sure some folks believe angels have sex.) The TV adaptation of one of my favorite books really surpassed my high expectations and my life is ruined now.
> 
> “And the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation, he hath reserved in everlasting chains under darkness unto the judgment of the great day...giving themselves over to fornication, and going after strange flesh, are set forth for an example, suffering the vengeance of eternal fire.” - Jude 6-7
> 
> Also, I don't want to beg for comments, but believe me when I say each one is treasured like a beloved pet.

“I’ve been thinking,” Aziraphale mused over his second glass of champagne, lowering his eyes to the splendidly set table laid out before them, unable to quite make eye contact with his dining companion. Half a slice of chocolate cake remained beside him, and his mouth watered slightly at the sight. _Gluttony_ , he chastised himself.

“What now, Angel?” Crowley asked, feigned annoyance not quite eclipsing the tender affection in his voice, as he held out his glass for the server to replenish. Aziraphale thrilled slightly to hear the familiar softness behind Crowley’s words, and he cleared his throat, deciding on the angle he’d use to broach this particular conversation.

“How familiar are you with the Epistle of Jude?” he asked lightly, trying to make his tone as nonchalant as possible. Even with Crowley’s sunglasses on, Aziraphale could sense his friend’s gaze sharpen at the mention of Biblical literature.

“Not very,” Crowley drawled, sitting up a little straighter. “In the mood for philosophizing?”

“Not precisely, no,” Aziraphale answered. “Ehm, I was thinking of one particular line, as a matter of fact. ‘And the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation…’ Crowley, do you think that’s us?”

“Could be,” Crowley said, frowning slightly.

Aziraphale picked neatly at the cloth napkin in his lap. “You see, your first estate was Heaven, of course, as was mine, and then… well, after you sauntered downwards, as it were, well, we both left our own habitations for Earth, didn’t we?”

“Suppose we did,” Crowley agreed, slipping his black card to the waiter as Aziraphale contemplated the tablecloth. “How’s the rest of it go, then?”

“Yes, well, that is the part that I’m coming to,” Aziraphale swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. _Lust._ He looked away again. “Something about ‘these he has kept in darkness, bound with everlasting chains for judgment on the great Day’-- well, that’s over and done with now-- and then ‘giving themselves over to fornication, and going after strange flesh,’ etcetera etcetera, something about damnation.” He looked back at the demon after a moment.

He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he caught Crowley hiding a slight smirk. “Well, listen, I’m already damned,” Crowley offered, leaning over Aziraphale to take a forkful of his cake. He placed it carefully in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, his subtly forked tongue flicking out slightly to catch every morsel. “That’s rather good, what did you say that was?” He reached across him again to take another bite.

Aziraphale felt suddenly warm about the collar as Crowley’s elbow bumped him gently. “Um, I think it was the hazelnut torte,” he said distractedly, looking around to see if anyone was paying attention to them. As usual, no one was. They were perfectly discreet, as always. There was silence for a moment as the waiter came back to give Crowley his receipt.

“Do you think,” Aziraphale tried again, watching as Crowley signed the bill, “Do you think that means angels who fornicate are damned?”

Crowley stopped what he was doing and put the pen down, turning his opaque gaze properly to Aziraphale. His mouth was slightly open, and if Aziraphale didn’t know better, he’d say the demon looked vaguely shocked. It wasn’t an expression he could recall seeing very often on his face over the past 6,000 years.

“ _I_ don’t know,” Crowley said finally. “Though I’ve got to admit, I thought _you’d_ know.”

“Well, that’s just the point, you see,” Aziraphale said, blushing deeply. “There’s a bit of the ineffable mystery about such things. I don’t know, really, and I don’t think anyone does. Lust is a sin, of course, but that’s-- well. That’s not all of it, is it? There’s lust, but there are also… other reasons to fornicate, aren’t there?”

“Like what?” Crowley asked, genuinely hypnotized now. Aziraphale was starting to wilt under the intensity of Crowley’s focus.

“Divine love, for instance,” Aziraphale offered weakly, knowing full well his eyes were betraying him. “Or... relief. The relief of, say, averting the Apocalypse. The thrill of-- of escaping punishment. Perhaps just an, I don’t know, a moment to feel wildly... alive…?” He drifted off, aware he’d revealed far too much.

Crowley’s head cocked to the side, and the moment was disrupted as the waiter came by to take the signed check.

“Thank you, sir,” she said to the demon. “Hope to see you gentlemen again soon.” Crowley ignored her. Aziraphale gave her a momentary smile, for the sake of appearances.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said finally, and the angel was shocked to hear his given name from his friend’s lips. Crowley rarely called him that, and usually only in times of immense seriousness, which Aziraphale had rather hoped this wasn’t. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Aziraphale laughed. In an instant, they were seated not at their table at the Ritz, but in Crowley’s living room.

“What in heaven are we doing here? I left the car in Mayfair--” Crowley moaned. Aziraphale stood up and crossed the room, circling a small stand upon which a stone statue had sat for decades. Aziraphale picked it up with both hands, proffering it to Crowley.

“What is this?” he asked his friend. “What is this, Crowley? I’ve always wanted to know.”

Crowley stood up so that they were inches apart, and tried to grab the statue out of the angel’s hands. Aziraphale held on steadily so that they were both holding the heavy thing, four hands at the base. “It’s two angels,” the demon said quietly, “Or maybe two demons. Or maybe one’s a demon and one’s an angel. That’s how I’ve always thought of it. Rescued it from the rubble back in Berlin.”

“I know that,” Aziraphale answered softly. “What are they doing?” He let go of the statue and Crowley lifted it up closer to their faces to inspect it.

“Never really thought about it,” he said carelessly, placing the statue gently back on its pedestal and turning back to his friend. “Wrestling, I suppose. Fighting.”

“They’re not wrestling,” Aziraphale retorted, his normally high voice coming from somewhere lower in his throat as he stepped closer to Crowley. “And we both know they’re not fighting.” They were in one another’s space now, too close, closer than they were in the Bentley, closer than they had ever been. Aziraphale could smell Crowley’s skin, which smelled less like human skin and much more like a burning garden, all soot and petrichor. He wondered faintly how he smelled to Crowley.

“Like apples,” Crowley said quietly, breathing heavily. Aziraphale didn’t bother to ask how he’d heard his thoughts. “You smell like apples, Angel.” He bent his head down slightly so that their noses touched, and then Aziraphale turned his face so that his mouth could finally meet Crowley’s in a kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Listen, Angel, I don’t want to be the reason you, you know. Fall.”
> 
> Aziraphale’s brow furrowed. “You couldn’t be.”
> 
> “Sodomy is a bit of a sin,” Crowley pointed out, and Aziraphale let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Not to, er, assume that’s what you wanted.” I want it all, Aziraphale thought.
> 
> “Eating oysters is a sin,” Aziraphale pointed out, “And you’ve seen me eat them on occasion."

It was tender only for a moment, until Crowley’s split tongue traced Aziraphale’s lower lip, and then it was not at all the sweet, sentimental snog that Aziraphale had planned. Then again, he hadn’t had much of a plan, and he was never really good at sticking to his plans, anyway, at least not where Crowley was concerned. _So this is lust_ , he thought happily to himself as Crowley surged against him, pressing their not-quite-celestial bodies as close as possible, arms wrapping around one another in something not unlike an embrace, but more urgent. Aziraphale broke away to inhale deeply, and Crowley groaned and sucked viciously at his neck, which made him gasp. Although technically neither of them had to breathe, strictly speaking, the angel found it calmed him when he forced oxygen through his nose and out of his mouth a few times in measured increments, especially as Crowley undid his bow tie to kiss further down his neck.

“You cannot do this to me,” Crowley was muttering, struggling to unbutton the stupid velvet waistcoat he secretly adored on Aziraphale. “You cannot just-- come in here, acting like-- like you suddenly learned what temptation is--”

“My dear, I’ve always known what it _is_ ,” Aziraphale breathed, throwing off his own coat and pawing at the unbuttoned vest beneath it until Crowley stepped away and he could take it off all the way. “I simply never thought we could-- or that you would-- oh,” he broke off, as Crowley discarded his blazer and shirt with a few practised gestures. His chest was tanned and lined, like his face, and well-defined, with taut muscles Aziraphale had never seen on his own body limned in shadows. He felt his stomach drop. “Listen, you know I’ve never-- not with this body--”

“I didn’t know,” Crowley growled, grabbing Aziraphale by the hips and unbuttoning both their trousers in turn. “I wasn’t sure what you’d been getting up to in Rome.”

“I’m not entirely sure I could, before now,” Aziraphale stammered, as Crowley went to his knees and pulled down the angel’s slacks so that his undergarments were exposed. Aziraphale closed his eyes for a moment and prayed to God and Heaven to help him feel human, just for tonight, just to see what all the fuss was about, and then suddenly with a minor miracle he was really fully shaped like a man, properly, with everything that entailed, and he added another silent prayer that whatever was swelling beneath his underwear now, it would be to Crowley’s liking. “Oh, dear, I feel a bit lightheaded,” he said, partly to himself, as he felt blood rush from his head. He silently ordered his knees not to buckle.

Crowley inhaled sharply and nuzzled his newly minted erection through the thin cloth. “Didn’t know you could do that,” he murmured, mouthing hungrily at the underwear until he caught the waistband with his teeth and pulled. Aziraphale let out a small, undignified squeak as his cock sprang out, bobbing against the demon’s cheek. Crowley sat back on his heels for a moment to take in the sight. Aziraphale blushed all the way down to his shoulders.

“Is it all right?” he asked uncertainly, thinking of the medieval art he’d based it on. It seemed only fitting, as an angel, he’d look like what the humans thought he should look like: thick, uncircumcised, longer than it really had much right to be. Crowley stood up so they were nose-to-nose again, then bent down so his lips were right against Aziraphale’s ear.

“You’re perfect,” Crowley whispered hoarsely, then nipped at the angel’s earlobe. Aziraphale shuddered and pulled back, holding Crowley out in front of him by the shoulders, taking him in.

“Would you take these ridiculous things off?” he asked, reaching up to gently finger Crowley’s sunglasses. Crowley reached up, pulled them off, and threw them across the room. Both of them laughed a little at the gesture. Crowley’s glowing yellow eyes raked appreciatively up and down Aziraphale’s naked body. Heat was pouring off them both, and Aziraphale realized with a shock that he was perspiring for the first time in 6,000 years. Crowley licked his lips.

“Do I tempt you, Angel?”

In response, Aziraphale wrapped his arms around his friend and pulled him into a tight hug, burying his face in Crowley’s collarbone and kissing every bit of him he could reach.

“Aziraphale, wait,” Crowley moaned, as the angel moved downwards. “I don’t want--”

“Oh,” Aziraphale pulled off, eyebrows knit together in sudden concern. “Oh, I’m terribly embarrassed--”

Crowley snorted and shook his head. “No, no, I want _you_ ,” he amended, looking up at the ceiling so he wouldn’t have to look at his friend’s hurt expression. “Listen, Angel, I don’t want to be the reason you, you know. Fall.”

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed. “You couldn’t be.”

“Sodomy is a bit of a sin,” Crowley pointed out, and Aziraphale let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Not to, er, assume that’s what you wanted.” _I want it all_ , Aziraphale thought.

“Eating oysters is a sin,” Aziraphale pointed out, “And you’ve seen me eat them on occasion. Besides,” he cleared his throat again. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

Crowley shrugged. “You love everything,” he said simply. “You’re made out of love.”

“No, I don’t mean that way,” Aziraphale stammered. He wasn’t embarrassed, precisely, that was the wrong word, and he wasn’t uncertain, because he’d known for some time now that he wasn’t alone in his feelings. Making Crowley understand him here was key. “Yes, I mean, you’re not entirely wrong, but I love you differently. Specifically. I’m terribly _in_ love with you, you know.”

“Since Berlin,” Crowley smirked. “Just because I saved your bloody books. That’s not love, that’s affection.”

“Since before,” Aziraphale corrected, glancing shiftily around the way he did when he didn’t want to meet Crowley’s eyes. Crowley looked like he wanted to say something. “Since the garden, actually.” Crowley closed his mouth, and Aziraphale dared a look at him. He was magnificent. Something like smoke had started to come off him in waves, sparks sizzling where his half-naked body met the atmosphere. Aziraphale had never seen that before. “I suppose what I’m trying to tell you is that there’s nothing in the known universe we could do together that I’d personally consider a sin, because I do love you, and not doing anything about it was much worse than risking Heaven to tell you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, God, oh Heaven,” Aziraphale was sputtering quietly as he looked down to watch Crowley.
> 
> “No,” Crowley smirked. “None of them.”

Crowley just stared at him, panting a little, his eyes glowing fiercely as the smoke crackled around him. He stepped out of his tight black trousers. He wasn’t wearing anything beneath them.

Aziraphale coughed politely, trying to draw Crowley’s attention to the fact that he was quite literally smoldering. “Having said all that,” he started, straining forward to touch the demon again, stroking his hands down Crowley’s arms and thighs, and gently putting out the smoke where his touch landed, “I was rather hoping you would sodomize _me_.” He tried to throw his friend a reassuring grin, but Crowley just scowled at him, trying to cover a shudder. Aziraphale laced his fingers gently through Crowley’s hair with one hand and cupped his jaw with the other, bringing the demon down into another divine kiss.

Crowley came to life again, his wings wrapping around them like a cocoon, as he pushed Aziraphale roughly against the wall where the statue sat on its pedestal. Aziraphale huffed in surprise and more than a little discomfort as the back of his head met the plaster, and thought of the time they’d been in just this position at the old convent, just a few days ago. _Well, not exactly this position,_  he thought, tilting his jaw heavenward so that Crowley could continue sucking voraciously at his neck. He gasped a little out loud and rolled his hips experimentally against the demon’s.

“Satan,” Crowley breathed, blasphemous as ever as he rocked against his friend. His cock was slender, though quite a bit longer than Aziraphale had imagined it would be. If he had imagined it. It jutted insistently against Aziraphale’s hip, and he shifted so that he caught it between his thighs, making the demon shiver with pleasure.

“Fairly sure this one’s ours,” Aziraphale groaned, trying and failing spectacularly to keep his voice steady. “It’s-- too good, you see--”

“No, no, Angel,” Crowley growled, reaching down to grab Aziraphale’s cock and palm it hungrily. Aziraphale moaned. “The humans think this is a sin. Anything that feels this good must be. Nephilim. You remember.” He pressed his forehead against the angel’s chest and looked down to where his hands met the strange flesh. Aziraphale was beautifully hard, and Crowley’s mouth watered just looking at him. He loved him, and he hated loving him, and somewhere behind him he heard his wings sizzle with hellfire.

“Humans could be wrong about that,” Aziraphale breathed, stuttering a little as Crowley’s hand coaxed him closer to delirium. “Some of them consider sex a kind of prayer.”

“Do you?” Crowley asked him, and pulled his hands away to snap his fingers. In an instant, they were lying prone on his bed, gray silk sheets beneath Aziraphale’s back as Crowley maneuvered his way on top of him. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale admitted, his voice shaking slightly as Crowley grabbed the angel’s left leg and bent it slowly to the side. “Ask me again later.”

The angel’s wings were spread under him on the bed, adding a feathered layer of comfort to the already sinfully soft mattress. A slight smell of ozone wafted off of them, as if the wings were fluttering in the tropopause instead of earthbound, here with the two of them in a flat in Soho, in the middle of London.

Crowley’s eyes flashed as he bent down to lick Aziraphale, from the tip of his cock to the root of it, and then behind. The new genitals were impossibly clean, with a halo of golden curls, as if they’d been conjured right out of a Vatican painting, which Crowley suspected they might have been. Above him, Aziraphale was whispering little prayers to himself, eyes squeezed tightly shut, hips twitching with need as the demon snaked his forked tongue inside the angel, grinning greedily as he did. _“We are here to lick some serious butt!”_ Aziraphale had said, back at the airbase, and Crowley in his infinite stupidity had corrected him. _“‘Kick,’ Aziraphale. It’s ‘kick butt.’”_ Perhaps Aziraphale had known exactly what he was saying after all.

“Oh, God, oh Heaven,” Aziraphale was sputtering quietly as he looked down to watch Crowley.

“No,” Crowley smirked. “None of _them.”_ He moved so that his hand grazed up Aziraphale’s soft, lovely body, teasing his nipples slightly and pushing him gently so that he turned over and onto his stomach. Crowley watched as the white wings trembled and spread, and then he brought Aziraphale up to his knees, catching him around the waist. Aziraphale braced his hands against the mattress and told himself silently he wouldn’t beg.

The demon held him and lined them up so they were mimicking the positions of the winged creatures in the statue. He’d thought of doing this for the last thousand years at least, and more often since the trial of Oscar Wilde. He couldn’t believe he was about to despoil an angel. Hell had to give him credit for that, he thought darkly. And if he Fell… Crowley had to trust what Aziraphale had said. There was no way this could be a transgression when everyone in the known universe knew that, if soulmates were part of the Ineffable Plan, Aziraphale was his.

Crowley entered him so tenderly, Aziraphale thought he would weep. He buckled slightly at the sensation, then leaned into it, arching back and gasping happily at the invasion. “You won’t break me, Crowley,” he said petulantly, as the demon stilled inside of him.

“I don’t want to go too fast for you,” Crowley growled, holding himself back. Aziraphale tutted kindly and then pushed back so that he was setting the rhythm, snapping his hips back against Crowley and pulling them closer together with quickening thrusts. Aziraphale made a rather human sound as he moaned into the pillows.

“Yesss,” Crowley hissed, snapping his hips faster and faster until he could feel Aziraphale’s body seize with tension. He reached around to touch the angel’s weeping cock, and Aziraphale caught his breath sharply. A gray halo had started to pulse around them both; in years of temptations, Crowley had never seen that before.

“If you touch me like that, I’m going to… come entirely undone,” Aziraphale stammered, reaching for Crowley’s hand and interlacing their fingers together.

“Your dirty talk could use some work,” Crowley groaned into the angel’s back. Aziraphale chuckled low in his throat, and then the laughter became a gasp. “I love you, Angel,” he said, not knowing where the words had come from or even if he’d consciously thought to say them.

“I love you,” Aziraphale answered simply. His entire corporeal body pulsated for a moment, and then he spilled over their entwined hands. The gray halo became a white flame surrounding them, and they were burning with it.

“Oh, oh, dear,” Aziraphale murmured. “Oh, I can’t believe…” Crowley felt the angel’s climax shudder through both their bodies and stilled momentarily, then bit Aziraphale’s shoulder and came. Vines of ivy sprang to life across the gray walls of his room. The fire went out.

Crowley paused and then pulled out of his friend, lying beside him on the bed. Aziraphale turned to look at him, grinning in a way Crowley would have described as stupid had he not known the exact depth of his friend’s wisdom.

It felt like the end of the world. It felt like the beginning of the world. It felt _divine_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what the hell just happened. Please rec me fics and leave me comments and let's talk about this beautiful, stupid universe forever.


End file.
